Lyra

I walked into the Harbringer auditorium and stopped short. The usual rows of seats were gone, replaced by card tables set up in neat lines. Each table had two chairs and a timer with a big red button on top. The room buzzed with excited chatter from the other she-wolf contestants.

A test proctor approached me. "Here's your number," he said, handing me a slip of paper. "Line up against the back wall."

I took the number, barely glancing at it as I clutched it in my ...